


havve of the hogan variety

by ladydawn



Category: TWRP | Tupper Ware Remix Party (Band)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 15:51:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10030226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydawn/pseuds/ladydawn
Summary: How Doctor Sung found Havve.





	

He had crashed.

He knew he’d crashed and knew he was going to crash even before he did. The gravity had been too strong; he hadn’t calculated anything correctly, not the pull of it nor the weight of his craft - no, he remembered now, the machine had taken the numbers and put them in all the wrong places, and he’d been meaning to fix that.

The point was that he was now crash-landed on an icy portion of this planet. The front of the craft had pressed inward, the rest of it cocked upward at a 45 degree angle. As he came to, he heard the blips, the bleeps, the sweeps, the creeps of all his instruments along the dash of the cockpit. He shook his head to try to clear it.

His back burned. It would be fine in a short while, but it burned, a sharp contrast to the biting cold outside. He carefully twisted to undo his seatbelt. He climbed and found his way out of the starboard door of the ship. He jumped to the ground, landed softly in the snow below.

He moved and leaned against his ship for a moment, shutting his eye. He tried to find his mind again. He breathed in deeply as his alien body adjusted to the climate. Then, he grabbed his device from his holster bag, and began to try to find anything that would help him on his way.

He told himself about himself. He reaffirmed what he knew.

“I’m Doctor Sung,” he said to himself, swinging his arm from side to side to try to find something that would make it beep. “I... have seen worlds start and end.”

He sucked in another deep breath. “One little crash isn’t going to change anything.” He continued to move his feet. “I’m in... somewhere. Somewhere in the past of this planet.”

As he swept his arm to the right, he found a formation of ice. He walked around it and the device started beeping wildly. He found the mouth of a cave and ducked inside. Instantly, though he’d grown used to the freezing outside, he was warmed by a few degrees and sighed. 

This cave was damn huge. He looked up at the white-blue ice, and saw stalactites hanging precariously. His feet crunched the snow under him. As he came to a fork, he chose the left that made the device beep more.

A few steps into the fork, he saw large footsteps. 

He couldn’t tell how old they were. There was no wind in the cave, and no one else had come through as far as he could tell. He saw blood drippings. Everything was perfectly preserved by the cold.

The device started beeping so wickedly loud and fast that he shut it and put it back in his bag.

“Holy sweet shittles,” he breathed.

There was this half-human (?) half-definitely-robotic monster lying by a long gone skeleton of a large animal. He knelt near it.

He pressed a hand to the flayed chest of the brute. Nothing.

Yet the red eyes still blinked. Cyclical, about every five seconds they would slowly grow redder and redder before retreating back to black. A pulse.

Doc nodded to himself. He pulled out a cord from his holster bag. He wrapped it around the creature and began to tug it out of the cave.

It took him twice as long to get back to his ship. He carefully pulled it down from its angle and walked around it. Nothing else except the front seemed to be damaged.

Okay. Good.

So he pulled the cyborg into the craft and laid it down on a makeshift cot (the only table in the ship).

The Doctor wasn’t _that_ kind of doctor, most of the time. He’d done small things, mostly to himself. Other times he’d made little devices. He made the thing that calculated the gravitational force of a planet, and look where that got him! In an ice hell, with this cyborg that would, most likely, kill him if revived. Or maybe the thing would swear an oath to protect him or at least not kill him.

He didn’t much like the odds. But it was worth a shot.

Doctor Sung was looking around his ship for anything that could be used to help this creature. Guy. Cyborg, technically, it looked like. He found some extra piping, metals, and wires. A body made of silicon and circuitry, with some of the leftover human parts on the inside. Whatever meat suit stuff that could be salvaged from the thing, he used. The bones, but he reinforced those with metal. Some veins and nerves intertwined with wires. All the while talking to himself about what could be used here and what had to be tossed there.

He checked the head. Everything seemed to be in working order up there. The body was where most of the damage had been done.

Thankfully he had nothing to do to the stomach. This was his least favourite part; eating and tasting things was fun but what came after wasn’t too fun for him. He happily just continued the wiring of nerves and veins up and up, and slapped some piping on intestines.

When he made it up to the torso, he found no heart.

“No heart?” he said to himself.

A gaping hole where the heart, or a ticker, should have been. Doctor Sung stood flabbergasted by the revelation. Everything needed a heart.

It began to come together in his mind. Another group probably wanted that animal this cyborg had hunted and then killed him for it. There wasn’t really anything else he could formulate and it seemed most likely; as long as there had ever been two beings, they were fighting in some way or another.

They had probably kept his heart, or ticker, or whatever, as a trophy.

Doctor Sung found a spare reactor core for one of the engines of his ship. He brought it to the table and sized it up against the cyborg. It would fit, but would it work?

He linked it to the veins, arteries, and nerves, electric or otherwise. As soon as he went to link the last, bigger one, it zapped him. He felt the electricity through every finger and every fibre of his arms until it hit his chest and head. The jolt sent him flying backwards to the wall.

He slid down the wall of the ship and sat. Just for a moment, he told himself. It wasn’t because of the shock, he said. He was just thinking, he said.

Unless he thought with his eyes unfocused and his head feeling staticy, Doctor Sung was definitely reeling from the power of that shock.

When his head cleared (again), he leaned it against the wall. He let out a long sigh, his breath visible from the cold. He thought of whirring cogs and gears.

Did he have spare cogs?

He got up with a vigor that surprised himself and though his legs were jellylike he ran to open his many drawers. He had the cogs and the gears, the tools to put them together, now he needed a... what was it called... a pendulum. Something to keep the time.

He screwed a cog to a gear and a gear to a cog, slowly making a cylindrical turning piece. He placed it in the hole and began connecting the wires of the cyborg to it. The pendulum came last; he carefully screwed it into place to display it outward.

He moved the pendulum to one side.

It began ticking.

It kept ticking, and the cyborg didn’t awaken. Doctor Sung stood over it with a frown on his face and his arms crossed. Too powerful and not powerful enough. He had to continue to find that middle area, the sweet spot to revive - or resurrect - this creature.

He disconnected this second heart and put it in a drawer.

He began working on a chestplate to take his mind off things. Maybe if he came back with a fresh mind he’d be able to find a way to fix it.

He finished the chestplate way too quick and couldn’t think of another solution. The only thing that had come to his stupid mind was a pager from his time adventures. So he tried it. And it didn’t work.

He tried the device in his holster bag. It gave him a slight shock and also didn’t work.

He tried an older engine core, and though it wasn’t as powerful as his newer ones, it still sent him flying into the wall.

And then he began to get angry. “You motherf - you ba - AH!” after sputtering around swears he simply screamed. He couldn’t articulate how frustrated he was with the cyborg. Whenever he would do something, he’d fix it. That’s almost always how it was, and he hated that he had to add another to the list of “almost”. Almost fixing something isn’t fixing, he told himself.

There was one drawer he hadn’t looked in. He hadn’t thought to look in it because it only had instruments. But he opened it, not happy at all, and dug through the stuff he’d accumulated.

He tried his trusty talk box in the heart position. Nothing at all.

He tried the ocarina he got from some traveling salesman way back when. There was some whistling but ultimately no sudden awakening.

He wasn’t about to try his synthesizer. Plus, it wouldn’t fit. And he didn’t want to cut it down to size or gut it.

The last thing he could try was the 808 drum machine. He sighed defeatedly. Okay, he thought, if this doesn’t work I’m leaving.

He had to move around some organs in order for it to fit, but he managed to install it in the cyborg’s chest. Fully connected, the wires splayed around it like a firework, it began to play a beat.

He felt a surge of energy under his hands. The body had responded to the 808 machine like no attempt before.

Doctor Sung excitedly punched the air and kicked around before putting the chestplate over the torso. He bolted and soldered it in place. He leaned over the face - was it a face? It had a couple holes and spikes that might be a mouth - with anticipation.

The eyes pulsed. They cycled through the red to the black then the red again three times before Doctor Sung felt a fleshy hand around his neck. He instantly and instinctively grabbed for them, scratching and clawing while struggling for air.

The cyborg sat up, dangling Doctor Sung in the air.

WHO ARE YOU, a voice in his head suddenly commanded.

“I’m “ - he gasped for breath - “can’t talk!”

The cyborg loosened its grip but didn’t let go.

“That’s fair,” Doctor Sung said, strained but ecstatic at the blood rushing back to his brain. “I’m Doctor Sung. I come from the past and the future and I crash-landed here.”

The cyborg put him down. He kept his hand around Doc’s neck, but didn’t apply pressure.

“I found you. I brought you here. I resuscitated you.”

The cyborg cocked his head to the side.

WHY?

Doctor Sung still breathed weird and he honestly couldn’t figure out exactly why either. Why did he do these things he did?

“I...” Sensing his uncertainty, the cyborg slightly tightened its grip. “I help people. It’s what I do. Now whether or not I do things morally is a matter of semantics, point of view, all of those factors. But I try to help.”

The cyborg repositioned its head.

OKAY.

“What about you? Can you tell me about you?”

I’M HAVVE. OF THE HOGAN VARIETY.

“Havve Hogan?”

YES.

“Cool.”

OF WHAT ARE YOU A DOCTOR?

“I usually just say experimental high kicks but it’s xenolinguistics, xenoculture, and timehopping. And it’s just a title I like.”

Silence.

LIKE YOU, I COME FROM THE PAST AND THE FUTURE.

“That’s fuckin’ rad, dude.”

I DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS AND I WON’T RESPOND.

“It means that’s excellent. It sounds like we have some things in common.”

Havve finally let down his hand from Doc’s neck. Doc rubbed at it. “How old are you, anyway?” he asked.

HOW DARE YOU ACCUSE ME OF HAVING A BEGINNING OR AN END.

“You looked like you had an end out there.” Havve raised his hand to Doc’s neck again. “Don’t deny it. And why do you not speak aloud?”

I PREFER TO ONLY SPEAK TO WHOM I CHOOSE. NO ONE ELSE.

“You’re mute to everyone but me?”

TO WHOM I CHOOSE.

“I see.”

Havve, who had been a skeletal frame just hours before, was now a mess of black and white. Flesh and blood and wires and metal. Doctor Sung nodded at him and started cleaning up the area.

DID YOU CALL ME A BASTARD EARLIER? Havve asked.

“I only got half the word out.”

Doc looked over at Havve. He was sitting on the table with his feet comfortably on the ground, so he must have been over six feet tall easily. He had a fleshy hand over the cold metal plate that was now his torso. He had his head down, looking at the edge of the ship where the wall met the floor with a soft rounded angle.

Adapting to a new life.

“Do you know where to go?” Doc asked.

I HAVE NOWHERE TO WHICH I WANT TO RETURN.

“Did you want to come along with me?”

A beat. Another, when it would have been appropriate for an answer. Then a few more.

YES. THAT WOULD BE SATISFACTORY, Havve finally answered.

Doc nodded. “Cool,” he said.

And so he’d added a companion to his party, one that sat on the table while he cleaned around him. When Doc prompted Havve to sit up front in one of the seats, he fell naturally into the one behind co-pilot’s.

WHY DO YOU HAVE FOUR SEATS WHEN IT’S ONLY YOU HERE?

Doc busied himself by turning the engine on. He booted up the systems on his dash, and reprogrammed his calculations system. Once his displays and controls were on, he shrugged and said, “I dunno. It felt right. Maybe one day we’ll fill them up.”

**Author's Note:**

> i always hc'd doctor sung finding havve in an ice cave for some reason.  
> maybe havve was in a luke-wampa type situation.  
> thanks.


End file.
